Black and White Socks

Black and White Socks

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The Poetry of Missing Socks

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socks dryer

I found this cute poem by Shane Ward on I think it helps make light of the frustration people go through while washing their socks.

Where do all the odds socks go?
It drives me to despair.
No matter how I wash the things
One goes to, who knows where?

Ten socks inside a pillowcase
And all of them are mine.
I pull them out once they are washed
To count them. Yep. There’s nine!

What is it with these wash machines?
I wish that it would stop.
So many socks I’ve lost in there
I could have filled a shop.

And why just socks for heaven sake?
It simply goes too far
I never lose a shirt, or vest,
nor underpants or bra.

Could the thing be eating them?
No. Somehow I think not.
Nor is it some strange payment
Like a laundermat type slot.

I wonder what would happen
If so sad a day will come
That in the wash machine I put
Not two socks – only one?

And if I sit by that machine
And Guard it like a sentry
Would I be surprised to find
The metal barrel empty?

Oh where do all the odd socks go?
I’ll never understand
The only way I’ll keep them all
Is wash the things by hand!

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